Get Up Off Of That Thang

The year is 2005 and I am dying.
Ok, not really "dying" physically. But on the inside. Emotionally and mentally, I was a pasty person in a George Romero movie. Life. Just. Sucked. I hated where I was in life, the fact that I had "failed" out of school, that I worked for minimal pay, I hated that I felt alone in a crowd full of people, I hated that I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without thinking I was fatter than Jonah Hill circa 2005... but not 2011... but then again in 2014....
I hated everything about me. In that year, I was looking for something to change me. Something that would give me what I thought I needed. I wanted to get away from the people that I had hung out with for most of my life. I felt like I couldn't be anything other than that one mexican dude in high school that was nominated for homecoming king (name drop). I wasn't going to be anything better than the Hastings employee or that dude that guy that lived in Arlington. I wanted something bigger, something greater. Something so badass, I could look at myself and actually like me. I wanted New York.
The following year, a group of friends and I took the trip. One, to see the sights, and two, so I could check out a recording school and maybe see if I could get in. I was going to take the jump. So. I planned it out. The Thursday we were here, I was going to take a tour of the school and see what it had in store for me. We weren't near the ballas we are today (badoom chic) so we were staying up on 94th street and Broadway - about 5 miles away from the school. I decided to get up Thursday morning and walk the 5 miles to the school. Just so I could check out the town. HOLY MOLY, this nigga fell in love. Walking by the fruit stands, the honking cabs, the random "the fuck was that" smells... I was in heaven.
The school was so cool. I took a tour and got to see the booth with the sound boards and the recording room. Almost cried. I was set - all I had to do was sign up.
And I didn't do it.
I went back to Texas to contemplate my entire life and couldn't do it alone. I hated myself so much that I couldn't stand the thought of being alone with myself all that time. So. I didn't do it. Visited about 4 other times since then and never made the jump.

Fast forward 6 years.

One February Sunday Funday... my life changed. And I accepted myself for who I was and freaked the fuck out. Ha. If you witnessed me that day, I apologize now. Because 1) I was so drunk, I don't remember and 2) I probably left booger marks on your shoulder. Hot. Mess. But it took that drama, that hardcore slap in the face to wake me up. And to say that damnit, I deserve to be happy and stop chasing shit that wouldn't ever be. I accepted me. I was born again. Thirty motherf'ing years, it took. But damnit... I was alive. SCARED OUT OF MY MIND, but alive nonetheless.
Work shit happened and look what happens... "JFK team is looking for another member. You interested?"

Today is February 2, 2015. Close to my 3rd "birthday" and I want to click my damn heels every time I walk out of my New York apartment. Not only did I realize that I didn't New York to change my life, I needed to change my life to get to New York. But I'm here... and I couldn't be happier. Not only am I ok with being by myself, sometimes I PREFER it. On a Saturday night, sometimes I'll sit here and watch SNL instead of drinking myself into an angry texter. And again, I apologize if you've been on the other end of that...

I've also realized how freaking DIFFERENT the people up here are. I call it "rudely nice". Contrary to popular belief, these people aren't mean. They're just to the point. Like, if you don't know what you want in line somewhere, get out of the way. If you ask, "what do you have to drink" at a bar, go ahead and leave right then because as Ms. Sweet Brown told ya, ain't nobody got time for that. And driving?? Holy shit, it's liberating. It's like driving a gocart without the teenager with a whistle telling you to quit bumping people.
Some things do not change, though. I am still good friends with the local bartenders. But in my defense, they are REALLY awesome friendly people. My first friend here, Jess, is still my good friend and she doesn't even serve me drinks anymore. And Pat, my drinking buddy? Even though he moved to Virginia, we still talk at least once a week. Not to mention the numerous FANTASTIC friends that come up from Texas to visit. Hell, Andrew comes here all the time. I almost started charging him rent. I was going to have his mail forwarded as a surprise to him. But... you know white people. That's kind of frowned upon.

I'm not sure if this blog was supposed to be just an update on my life since I haven't posted something in over a year or if it was to prove to you that things happen for a reason. And through the pain and the hurt and the "what the fuck are you thinking" moments, it all leads somewhere. You will be confused as shit. Maybe even pissed. Maybe even so pissed you punch a brick wall. Or so drunk you drop your phone in front of your boss's bosses 4 times. Or cry on your way home from someone's apartment every bloody time JUST to go back over there and do it again the next day.
BUT. Ha. All for a reason. Count. On. That.

Until next time....

Karaoke?

So today, after a week of not killing my liver, I finally had an alcoholic beverage. I say AN alcoholic beverage because my mother is probably reading.
Today is Saturday and you know how I like to day drink. I waited for noon, when Chili's opened, and had my first drink in a week. "Presedente" Margarita. Without the Presedente, by the way. Apparently, they can get away with not serving it with Presedente by noting on the menu its "tequila", not Presedente tequila. Sneaky Indians... I ordered the "chicken fried" chicken strips. Which came out looking like 5 chicken fried steaks on a plate with a corn cob and french fries. Ate about half and couldn't do it anymore. BUT I did have a couple more Presedentes. Wasn't sure how much it affected me until "Whip My Hair" by Willow Smith came on. I found myself "whipping my hair back and forth", while the bartender stared at me, and realized it's been awhile since I had a drink. Didn't help that Shakira came on next and I was bar dancing in my seat. Indians apparently don't know about "bar dancing". People were staring more than a mexican in traffic.
Had a couple and then finally went to bed. For awhile. And woke up to do some sanging. Walked into the karaoke bar next door to someone singing George Thorogood. Word? And then, Sweet Home Alabama. What the fuck this nigga know about Alabama? Couldn't stop smiling for 30 minutes cause it just kept getting better. Sweet Child of Mine, U2, Billy Ocean... I can't do 80's music. Most dudes who sang in the 80's sang higher than the females did! I can't do that shit. So I started to play a game...
If you've ever been to Passport Health, the people who tell give you your international shots, you know that they are anti-travel. These people will tell you about every disease, parasite, sickness, rash, cough and sneeze, ailment that you will ever get from any other country besides America. They will scare you into believing that as soon as you get off of the plane, you have potentially caught Malaria, Herpes, Diabetes, SARS, Swine flu, Bird, flu, Dog flu, carpel tunnel, small pox, chicken pox, and VD before you even speak to customs UNLESS you spend $345 on pills and shots to prevent it all. Apparently, you can't drink the water in any other country except the US. Which sticks to you. So when you get a mixed drink, you know it comes with ice aka frozen death. So the game begins.
You have to finish your drink before your ice melts or else you die on the spot of some made up disease that no one has heard of but EVERYONE is afraid of. Which means that you drink a lot more than anticipated just because you don't like rashes. Well let's just say I played that game. And I lost.
As I kept watching the show, I became aware that it really wasn't karaoke night. There was a dude there singing and this was his show. Oops.But wait, they just said we could sing! There's my queue.
Asked for Incubus. No luck. Asked for Michael Buble. Nope. Asked for "No Diggity" to no avail. Asked for Matchbox 20 and all they have is "Smooth" by Rob Thomas/Santana. I'll take what I can get. But singing a "spanish" song in India doesn't land so well as singing it in Texas.
Either way, there were all of 3 people singing tonight, besides the dj and his girl, and no one really cared. Man, I miss Aiyoku. Black people and being center of attention go together like drunk texts and morning regret. Ask me tomorrow about that one.
Tomorrow is brunch day, since my work network connection is STILL not working. We'll see how much brown people relate during drunk lunch. I'll keep you posted.

Until next time...

Back In Black

It's been a minute since my last entry so I'll catch you up:
I gained about 930 pounds, I made new fantastic friends, dated some people, made fun of some people, drank some beer, became asexual, and started a Facebook war with an old white man. You know... same shit, new day. Currently, I'm sitting in a hotel room, watching a Simpsons episode from 1993 and trying to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to be doing right now.

So here I am - back in Indian for my 15th and 16th week. We're transitioning another one of my customers so I'm here doing what I do. As soon as I find out what that is, I'll let you know. The trip here was pretty uneventful. Spent 10 hours on a plan here watching some good movies. Landed in Frankfurt and sat for four hours watching the snow fall and praying to God I wouldn't have to spend the night there. It was below freezing and all I brought was close and the extra weight that I put on. Once we took off, I promised myself I would sleep the rest of the way to Mumbai. I even put on Anna Karenina, the Oscar nominated movie, to help me fall asleep, Those artsy movies usually either make me wanna smoke or put me to sleep. This one did neither. It just confused the hell out of me and pissed me off. If you've seen it, you know what a psycho bitch that chick was! Holy moly - reminded me why I quit dating girls.This chick was the definition of bipolar! She couldn't be crazier if she started talking shit on a random person's Facebook post, all the while looking like Santa Claus had an illegitimate child with a retarded cow. (I'm not saying, I'm just saying.) So I never fell asleep because she pissed me off so much. Ended up staying away for another God knows how many hours until I finally fell asleep Monday morning at 11:30am. I don't really know how long that was because I'm not even sure what time it is now. We landed at 1:15am and I've been in and out of sanity since.
I'm working nights here so that I can be on the same time as it is in the states. And I have to say it's for the birds. I'm not sure what time I'm supposed to eat or sleep or masturbate or what. Oh make time for all three... I just don't know what time it is when I do it.
Badoom chic.
My first day back was actually not bad at all. It was like I never left. Got back in the groove and now that I know I'm only here for 2 weeks, it really doesn't make me the anxious, bitter, wreck I was last time. Although, the first thing that they told me was, "hey you put on a little weight". Get off me, nigga, I got hungry. After the day ended at 6am, I came back to the hotel and did some more work until I just couldn't work anymore. Even started working out a little. I say a little because my dumbass forgot all my workout clothes so I can't really be running in khakis. So I just stay in my room and do some aerobic/dancing/hope-to-God-no-one-can-see-me-shit.Hey, I'm sweating so that's all that matters. I guess they knew I was coming with weight to lose because there is a scale in my room. Ass holes.
Went to KFC today since it's down the street and the closest thing to fast food I can find.I waited in line after looking at the menu trying to find something I recognized and low and behold, in front of me was a black chick! I was excited and then confused... what the hell would a black chick be doing in India. I'm not being racist... but lets be real. Black chicks don't even like going to the ghetto, let alone the GHETTO. So I almost thought that maybe she was just a dark Indian chick. Until I heard her order.
"I need the two piece, please.A leg and a thigh."
Complete with the neck sway, "And please make sure it's a leg and a thigh. I don't wont none of that other stuff!"
My eyes opened wide and I wanted to hug her. MY PEOPLE!! Right here in line at KFC, I found the only other "black" person in India.

Imagine that.

I have a driver from the building I'm working in that drives me to and from work. He's pretty quiet and doesn't smell like the fool from the hotel that used to drive us when we were here last. This one actually takes a shower, I think. My only complaint is that this fool keeps his car at -42 degrees. By the time I get out, my balls are like marbles and I got icicles hanging from my nose. He still drives just like all the other drivers here. We get so close to the car next to us that if my penis was hanging out the window, I could touch it. And I'm hung like a hamster! It's a big, giant, mammoth hamster, but a hamster none the less.

I am planning on attending karaoke night at a bar next door on Saturday and I cannot wait. Josh apparently has been telling this fool that I was coming so I anticipate a lot of sanging on Saturday. And a lot of dranking too. I haven't had a drink since the flight to Frankfurt and only 2 cigarettes since Friday night. Word. Let's see how healthy I can get before gorging myself at Anthony's next Sunday.
Planning to get work done and lose some pounds before my return on the 30th. Been wearing a lot of black lately cause, you know, black is "slimming". But as big as I got, I could paint my body black and it'd still look like I was pregnant.
Gotta get pumped and ready for the pub crawl on April 27th. Just throwing that out there.... Schmammered Family Reunion Part 4. Bring your drinking pants!

By the way, the Careless Whisper video just came on tv. Maybe they'll catch up to 1999 on this channel and I can see some Bone Thugs.

Until next time...

Lollapalooza Part 1

First off, let me start by saying yes, it has been WAY too long since I've done one of these. I never hooked up the internet at my apt and that kinda stifles my ability to do... online things. And since when I'm at work, I'm working, this is the first in almost a year.
Since my last post, not a whole lot has changed. I did come home from India, I got over some old stuff, moved on to some new exciting stuff, and am pretty effing content right now. Especially since I've been on vacation for a couple of days to come to Chicago and go to Lollapalooza - the three day music festival featuring Black Sabbath, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jack White, The Black Keys, and a crap ton of other people that you probably won't know unless you heard them.
Today was day one. We woke up this morning to a billion young, douchey, way too hippie people walking down the streets of downtown Chicago. I can say that because I wasn't wearing blue jean shorts or tight jeans and a tank top. And white sunglasses. And we all know how I feel about white sunglasses. They should be outlawed, thrown into the river, never to be heard of again. But I digress...
The temperature is effing awesome up here. It's like spring time in Dallas. The first show we caught was Haley Reinhart. She had an awesome voice but I have never heard of one song before. Which probably made it better. The further in the day it got, the more I realized... I've only seen 4 black people. There was 5, but was escorted out due to unrelated circumstances (I hope). Beer was of course, expensive and so was the food. I didn't eat, nor drink much so that was good. With the buckets of sweat I extruded, I may even lose weight this weekend. I was sweating more than a fat boy doing strenuous work.... like standing up.
These fools were getting WILD out there. I never seen drugs being used so openly! There were folks doing bumps, smoking weed like it was Marlboro Lights. There was even a little mexican dude walking through the crowd, holding little bags of weed in the air with the intent to distribute. I said, ain't this some shit? Apparently, Lolloapalooza don't follow normal American laws. It turns into Neverland and everything goes. (Badoom chic?)
And the white people dancing... oh  man... White people IS funny. Especially with the drugs, these people really thought they were doing something. I think I saw ONE chick that looked like she knew how to move those skinny white hips, but the others just look like they were praying to the rain gods. I thought the clouds were about to gather and the it was going to rain gumdrops and joints.
And the clothes! It was a mix of the 60's and 80's and then, like, 2140. The hippie dresses and the shorts that come up above the belly button, like they should read "Bugle Boy" on the back pocket. And then the sunglasses that were right out of the movie Cocktails. And then the club kids listening to the dubstep djs at Lollapalooza... oh geez... I feel sorry for our children.
The last show was Black Sabbath. Ozzie was AMAZING... for about an hour. Then after that, I think he got tired because the only thing I recognized coming out of his mouth was "THANK YOU" after every song. He should just keep singing because between songs he kept saying something, and I swear everyone in the audience turned to look at each other and ask what the eff he was saying.
"Refmla ehtlam jalu, Chicago!"
"Wha.... What did he say?...... WOOO HOOO! GO OZZIE!"
At one point, I think he told everyone to jump but no one understood so they just started waving their hands in the air.

After 10 hours of sweating, loud music, beer, and very unhealthy food, we were beat. Took a shower and headed to the bar. Ha. You know me... Now it's time for day 2 to start and we are getting ready to do it all over again - sunburn and all. My face is redder than my a fat boy doing something strenuous... like stand up.
Oh wait, I said that already. Apparently, I REALLY look like a fat boy doing strenuous work.
Damnit.
Dunkin Donuts, here we come!

Until next time...

The Music Blog

If you haven't noticed, I get REALLY bored here. Since it's Sunday and I don't do jack on Sunday (Who's Jack?.... Badoom chic) I decided to write a little something about music. Mostly, what I'd like to do is share a couple of tunes with you that mean a little something to me. Like-to-hear-it-here-it-go....

"Here In My Room", Incubus
You know gosh darn well there is going to be several Incubus songs on this list so get over it.
This song is about love on a broken hearted, nearly douche bag level. About a guy who has given up on the feeling of love and has decided to make it an verb in the physical sense. It's no longer a feeling, it is an action. " For those of you that know the bitterness side of love - those of you that have been hurt, that have felt that dagger in your heart one too many times, this song will speak to you like no other. "If only the lights would dim a little/I'm weary of eyes upon my scars". That shits deep. The last verse even contains a little connotation about what exactly he's talking about. Take a listen and see if you pick up on that. The only problem I have with it is that it promotes those kind of acts that my moral beliefs won't allow me to - using sex as a form of pleasure rather than something that's supposed to have a background. Call me a pussy all you want but there has to be something there for me. But as far as the reasoning behind turning that corner from giving up on that four letter word and doing it maliciously to someone else isn't necessarily crossed here so I'm going with it. Party on, Brandon Boyd.

"Everybody Hurts", R.E.M.
This is a pretty old song, but you all know I'm still living in the 90's. Before I paid attention to this song's lyrics, I used to think this was a very depressing song. I thought it was about pain and hanging onto it. It wasn't until years later that I realized this about staying up. It's about not feeling alone. Most of you know where I come from with those kind of stories - that feeling of being alone is pretty strong. Being in a crowded room and feeling like not one of them understands you is one of the worst feelings in the world. What this song says is, "don't throw your hand". Why, because everybody hurts. Everyone knows that feeling. It may not be that same feeling and it may not come from the same place, but damnit... EVERYBODY hurts. So when you think you've had too much of this life... hang on.

"It Don't Matter to the Sun", Garth Brooks
As a song off of the Life of Chris Gaines album, I can see where this is automatically tagged as a stupid song. But if you listen to this song, it's about knowing that outside of you, the world keeps turning, the moon still shines, the sun still rises and it doesn't matter to the rest of them... but it matters to me.

"Lose Control", Missy Elliott
I gotta switch it up a little for my girl, Missy. There is not another female musician that has the kind of beats like Missy got. Everyone of her songs makes me wanna get up and shake my ass like a salt shaker. The reason I love this song so much is that it is so up beat that I am even typing faster right now, listening to it. Table dancing like a champ. You can't HELP but move to this shit. "Music make you lose control". That it do. Which is why I'm writing a blog about this shit - COUNT IT!
I also just realized that if I'm writing about hip hop, I start talking hip hop. "That it do", really? Ha. Wait until I talk about country music. I'll start writing with a Texas accent...

"She Is His Only Need", Wynonna Judd
This is just a sweet song. It reminds me a lot of my friend Andrew and a relationship he had back in the day. When my man, Andrew loves, he LOVES. Which is something that I really envy about him - because he's in it when he's in it. Nothing else matters. During this particular relationship, it was one of the first that meant something. And when I heard this song when this was starting for him, that immediately popped into my head and it fit. And knowing him and knowing where he was and hearing this song... it had such a connection to me that I have had this song in my song bank since. To me, this song spells out love - "Cause without her, where would he be/See it's not for him/she is his only need". That shit's deep.

"The First Day of My Life", Bright Eyes
Another song about love, it's the sweetest most simple love song I know. It's about that one day that you wake up and realize that everything is sweeter; that the sun is brighter, the trees are greener, that the grass is softer - all because you are in love with this one person and they love you back. Throwing all caution to a heartbreak, "I'd rather be working for a paycheck/than waiting to win the lottery", it's about just loving and being loved in return. If you've ever been in love, you know that as soon as that moment happens, as soon as you realize that it's real... man, there is nothing else. "As if I just woke up".

"They Looked Like Strong Hands", Bayside
Everyone puts on a front at some point. "They Looked So Strong" is just about that - it's about them being what is expected of them. "This isn't who I am/from confidence to self-doubt/in 60 seconds/storming stages and stereos". From the outside looking in, it always looks better. It's the trying to look from the inside out and thinking it's the same is the issue. That self-conscious being that lives in all of us is a lot stronger than we'd like to admit. And if we think that THAT person is the one everyone is seeing, eff a bunch of that! It's like a lemon pretending to be a grapefruit - no matter how close skin color could be, nigga you're still a little guy. "I look so strong/when the weight of all the world/don't take it's toll". Dig it.

"Let's Go Crazy", Prince
It is definitely party time. This was written about Y2K, but could absolutely be used for every other world-ending phenomenon since 1996 - INCLUDING 2012. Promoting getting "crazy" since we're all gonna die anyway, this song lights a fire under you to throw caution to the wind and even though shit happens, well, let's go crazy. It's all ending anyway. Why spend time upset about some shit when we could spend the last days "going crazy" and having fun. And the ending guitar solo.... makes a nigga wanna throw up the two finger hand.

"Falling Apart", Travis Muscatell
"Maybe it's I'm crazy/maybe it's because I can't honestly tell you what I want". About love strained because of inner demons - this song is kind of the counter part to the "First Day of My Life". It's about the self loathing part of feeling that kind of love. Shit sometimes ends because of inner turmoil. No, it's not fair, but the truth hurts. What this song does is allows it to be expressed outside instead of in. And NOT just because he's one of my best friends, his voice portrays that with such feeling that it's almost too much to bare. listen to the live version of him (every Monday at Dino's in NRH - ahem) and it'll water your eyes for sure. Just saying.

There are about a billion other songs that are in queue right now to discuss but rather than explain my entire catalog to you, I'll let it be for now. But best believe there will be more of these. You don't have to look these songs up. Just suggestions out of my favorites.

What am I kidding, yes you do. You will be tested.

Until next time...

Birthdays Are Awesome

Yea, I know - it's been awhile. My apt back home doesn't have internet and I'd get shot if I try to do this at work so you take what you can get, damnit. Get off me.

I'm just kidding, please keep reading.

So my birthday was pretty rockin'. We'll start from the beginning:
The flight home was a little rough but in a good way. When I got to the airport in Mumbai, I was really excited to start celebrating. Technically, at that time, it was already my birthday here so I wanted to party hard. I couldn't get through security fast enough. Which point #1, I'm NEVER leaving here on a Friday ever again. Eff that. Too many damn people. Everywhere. Anyway, while I was in line, a little kid was on my ASS the entire time. Her AND her mama. I'm like, "Back back, back back - give me 50 feet". They wouldn't get off me - straight trippin - so I started swaying back and forth so that if they didn't get off me, they'd get hit by my backpack. Worked for awhile... until the little girl got too close and I knocked her down. I'm just saying - not my fault. Get off me.
Finally got through and hit up the Lufthansa Lounge where I sat on Facebook for 3 hours and drank wine. Partly because the beer here sucks, partly because I wanted to go to sleep on the first leg so I didn't have to the second. Mission accomplished.
Got to the Frankfurt lounge got myself cleaned up. I learned from my first trip that if I didn't pack a shirt in my carry on, I'd smell like feet and onion the whole flight back to the US. Once I got on the plane, though... all hell broke lose. Hey... it's my birthday. Started automatically with the predeparture champagne, and then Jack and Seven after that.... all 11 hours on the way home. Until they ran out and then rum and coke. Yes, I went a little overboard. But it's my 30th birthday and I was alone. Don't judge me. It got so bad that once they brought around the duty free catalog, I went crazy and bought a carton of cigarettes and some cologne I've never even heard of - JUST because I didn't want to be "that guy" and buy just a carton of cigarettes.
Had a grand ol' time that day - dinner with B, and then we went to see a Mustang America reunion show where my man, Travis, asked his wonderful girlfriend, Amanda, to be his lobster. Real sweet.
And real hammered. If you didn't get the picture of me on the way home, I'm sure you can ask the guy next to you because apparently, Bryan sent it to everyone and their mama.

The next weekend was our joined birthday party - Bryan, Troy and I had loads of fun! So many people!!! Great to see some folks I hadn't seen in awhile and a lot of fun hanging with everyone at Mac's. And let's just paybacks a bitch because I DO have Bryan's picture of his ride home. Just saying.

The next week was work. And lots of it. Didn't do much but hang with cool people and have fun while I could.

Yesterday, the team here went for a day trip to Elephanta Island - or we tried to, anyway. We left the hotel in a driver from the hotel that was going to spend the entire day with us, wherever we wanted to go. All we had to do was tell him.... but apparently we had to tell him in Hindi because this fool did NOT speak English that well. And really didn't have that good of a sense of direction either. I mean, I don't know, but as a driver who is driving around 4 Americans, that MAY should be a requirement. We got to the port where they told us that because of the "cyclone", they weren't running boats to the island. Cyclone? Really? What, are we in Kansas? So we decide to walk around the Gateway of India anyway and noticed some folks by the port. And after the people up front say, "it's too dangerous to go", this fool down by the port was like, "y'all niggas want a ride" because he was OBVIOUSLY running his boat. And we got on.
Yea. Smart ones.
Now, it is not to say I don't have a sense of adventure - I think I do. But when they aren't running boats up front and this dude is just taking money and putting you on a boat, I may get a little weary - call me stupid. We get on and go up top to the deck where the water is so choppy, I everyone of us almost fell 9 times getting from one end to the other. We sit for awhile and the "captain", who coincidentally is wearing a scarf on his head - looked like a dark ass pirate - comes up and we take off. I'd like to point out that if this had been America, we'd have had 4 people make announcements and signs EVERYWHERE about how not to stand too close to the edge, to hold on to the railings while walking, and blah blah blah. But nope. Not here. Here, they were like, "y'all niggas ready to go"? And we took off. Pretty cool trip - started raining and felt awesome. Went to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch and had a burger. It so happened to be Mexican Fiesta celebration. Go figure with me and Stephen there. Ha.

I have 3 weeks left here on my "last" trip. I say "last" because I will be coming back, I just don't know when. But this is my last scheduled trip anyway. I'm going to make the most of it and try not to lose my mind waiting to get home. It's been a pretty trying week at work. So bad that last night, I decided that when I got home, I'm going to quit my job and open a bar. I've been wanting to do that forever so may as well start now, right?!
We also know that I'm a pathological liar so we'll see how far this goes. It'd be effing nice, though. Kind of a dream job.... We'll see.

Until next time...

Birthday Suit and Thai

So this past weekend, my colleagues and I decided to take a little trip to Bangkok, Thailand. We figured we were already this far into Asia, why not take that leap to the other side of the Bay and hit up another Asian city. Just to get away from all the work stuff and whatnot. Let's just say.... success.
Let me first of all just say that I am REALLY glad I was traveling with white folks. During the days proceeding and even the morning of, Josh and Scott were talking about all the research they had done and looking up the area and finding stuff for us to do and stuff. Research? Really? I was just hopping on a plane and seeing where the plane took me. I hadn't done NONE of that shit. That's why they make movies like The Hangover and Hostile about niggas like me. Just saying.
If you know me and "vacation" time, when I break... fool, I BREAK! I start drinking as soon as the day starts, don't wear underwear, I starting eating cheese and shit - nigga, I'm WILD! So as soon as I got all ready and packed, I headed downstairs to the hotel bar and waited for the other two to get ready. Only had one.... I'm not sure if I'm ready for my boss to see the alcoholic in me yet.
The flight only took 4 hours and the seats came equipped with screens so that we could play games and watch movies and whatnot. Flight even came with a meal service and free drinks. Already! Food wasn't too bad but the wine was better. Watched two movies in between getting up from my seat every time the Indian with the bladder of a 3 year old had to get up. At one point, he tried to get over me without me getting up by stepping over me... hold up, dude. That' ain't happening. Not trying to have a grown ass man straddling me on a plane just so he can urinate. I'll stand, thanks.
Once we find our way through the airport, trying to get into the right lines and whatnot, we finally make it out to the line of cabs waiting and I thought I was in The Fast and the Furious Part 6: Bangkok Boogie. EVERYONE of the cabs were brightly painted, neon running lights, and techno music blaring. We found one and he was concerned with how many bags we had... because his truck had his speaker system in it and it wasn't going to fit too many bags. Really, dude? I can't fit my luggage 'cause you got 2 carpeted speaker boxes back there and your amp? Nice. On the way to the hotel, he busted out his tv screen so that we could, apparently, watch his favorite Thai soap opera. At one point, he started laughing so we started laughing at him and I swear that fool thought we understood what happened. All I understood is that something happened and they started playing the cartoon "wha-wha" when something bad happens.
The hotel was REAL bad ass. All the up until we got to the front desk and noticed that the dude at reception had a Wayne's World 2 eye... Where you didn't want to stare, but couldn't help trying to find out what the eff he was looking at and with which eye... swaying back and forth to see which one followed you.... damn.
I'm going to hell.
Our first night on the time was AWESOME! Started out with dinner with Scott and the Josh and I hit up the night life. Bar after bar after bar after go-go bar. Sat at one bar and, in true Thai fashion, a girl comes up to talk to Buckley. She ends up hanging out with us all night. We'll call her the "tour guide". Showing us the ins and outs of the area and which were the "lady boys" and which weren't. SO glad she was there for that one... That shit can be really confusing. That's all I say about that...
After the bars closed, she said there was a club still open around the block. So. In true drunk fashion, J Buck and I hit up a club at 2am. Dancing and shit? I thought I was 18 again. Except afterward when I tried to walk out and my freaking legs were sore. Oh yea. You're 30...
Oh. And white people are funny. You know what means. Just saying.
There was a diner right outside the club so we stopped in for food. Hello, early morning hamburger. Some of the tour guide's friends joined us for a bit. I don't know if it was just a bad accent or my drunkeness, or the fact that it was 4:30am, but I have NO idea what one of them was saying. I think her name was "Puta". And when Josh and I started laughing, no one understood why. All I know is that she ate all my damn fries and kept saying, "I hungy! I hungy".
Ok lady. Whatever you say.
Quotes of the night:
"One of those street vendors had crabs."
"Thai hoes really help your self esteem"
Saturday, we went shopping during the day and hit up the same spot at night. Josh, again, got hit up by some random STUPID whore. We had to leave there before she pulled his penis out there at the bar and went to town. After that, went to one of the coolest shows in Thailand. It was weird seeing the people that were there, too. Mostly American. Including this one dude with a t-shirt on, shorts pulled up to his chin, and some of the raddest kicks ever! This fool was REAL confused. We took way too many shots, bought ping pong balls to throw at the girls on stage (really degrading, and I'm ashamed of myself for doing it... but DAMN it was fun), and then someone tried to be a jackass and my glasses got knocked off my face and broke. But after all the shit WE did, if that's all that happened... ha. That shit was tight...
Sunday was spent shopping again. At the mall, though, we ran across a restaurant called the Sunrise Taco - Authentic Mexican Food.
Really?
So of course we ate there and of course this authentic mexican wasn't having it. Did enjoy the margarita, though. Rice was terrible, tortillas were old, and the salsa tasted like Pace. Pft.
We sadly made our way to the airport around 6pm via train. We drug ass trying to get through security, and even more so boarding the plane. SUCH a fun city we didn't want to leave.
The plane ride back to Mumbai was crap from the beginning. I had another aisle seat and the people walking by KEPT hitting me. There was even this one dude who was trying to let someone by and kept shoving his fat belly in my face. I mean BAD! I felt a little violated. I think he was trying to get fresh. I got hit with the food cart twice. The dude behind me made me pull my seat up because he couldn't eat. (Fatty McGee didn't need to eat anyway). And the dude in front of me had the most RIDICULOUS reclining chair that I thought that nigga was in my lap. Saving grace was that I was sitting next to two English chicks that were pretty cool. We played Who Wants to be A Millionaire for most of the trip.... they were WAY smarter than I... me.... I.... whatever.

Back in Mumbai for another week and then I'll be home this Saturday for my birthday (hint, hint). Going to see Travis and Zuriel's show with special guest, Alan Shields. "Getting the band back together", as T would put it. Ha. It'll be good times. Having the big bday party with Bryan and Troy next weekend at Mac's. You should DEFINITELY hit that up. It's time to turn 30 in style. I may even take a shot or two. We'll see.

Until next time....